bouguereau
by NegativeGravity
Summary: or: the night Akari brings Rei home. — canon-compliant, technically series prequel.


**title:** bouguereau  
**summary:** or: the night Akari brings Rei home. — canon-compliant, technically series prequel.  
**raw word count:** 1659  
**notes:** cross-upload from my AO3. the story itself is something I had to get off my chest; this is a pretty character-establishing moment for both of them in the series, and provides quite a lot of insight into their psyche, all the while _showing_ rather than _telling._ I felt compelled to play with it.

* * *

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High school boys were hardly their usual clientele; the legal drinking age was twenty, after all, and although the district had an unspoken _don't ask, don't tell_ policy regarding its customers, it was the sort of thing that heavily resembled a powder keg, ethically as well as legally — you never knew what spark would blow it all up in your face.

Still.

Aunt Misaki let them rack up an impressive bill, politely oblivious to the fact that the oldest one among them nicked, at best, nineteen. As the owner, this was her call to make — Akari understood this. She also understood that they were two women alone at night in a confined space with a bunch of rowdy, severely inebriated teenagers. Things could go south at any given moment. The night could turn red. She understood this.

It did not make any of it less cruel, however.

She kept her vigil steadfast behind the safety line of the bartop, studying the group coldly out of the corner of her eye. One of the boys was being bullied into drinking with the rest; he was clearly the youngest of the lot, small and showing bruises at the cuffs when he raised his hands to protest. Akari's heart clenched for him like a fist.

"Don't let it show on your face, dear," Aunt Misaki advised, smile hammered perfectly in place. She could so easily have been a daytime television actress. "I don't like this one bit, either."

Akari graced her with her best politician's smile, handing her another bottle of hard liquour. For a second, everything about her posture said: _I want to kill them. I want to clobber them to death._ It was an ugly string of thoughts, one that vanished from the lines of her body like fog off a lake the instant she returned her hands to the left hip, smoothing down an imaginary crease in her dress.

She did not bother hiding a sigh of relief when at last the bell above the door rung the group out, loosening the plague of them unto the unsuspecting world.

"You go on ahead, darling," Aunt Misaki said, and with her head tilted like that she looked so much older, like a clay god cut new in plexiglass. She started to press down on her temples, knead the tension out. "It's late."

Akari glanced at the clock: the smaller hand shifted under her eyes from eight to nine, the greater one spearing four in clean, unperturbed halves. She grimaced. "Thank you for all your hard work, auntie."

"Nonsense," the woman said, but she was smiling just so. She shooed her off.

In the small staff's corner in the backroom, Akari picked up her purse and wrapped herself safe in her shawl, trusting that the thick wool would keep night's sails bayed. There was such a sour aftertaste to it all. Such a heaviness in her stomach.

She walked out into the crisp March air and almost stumbled. The bullied boy was hunched over on the sidewalk, abandoned there against the rail like a body bag that'd come undone when it'd been tossed careless from a speeding car into a grain field. Her heart clenched again, all but knocking the wind from her lungs. She had the distinct feeling that if she didn't do something about it, by morning he would be on a slab, tagged and pending identification.

"Are you alright?" She called out, crouching by him slowly, tucking a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. _Don't spook him, Akari. Gentle, gentle...like with the cats._ "Where are the boys that were with you earlier?"

* * *

It's a mercy, being left for dead.

At least that's what he thought, head pulsing with a dull ache that made everything feel fogged and sluggish, as though his brain were wrapped up in a thick film of cotton gauze. _I'll stay like this a while and then I'll crawl home. I just need…I just…_He'd closed his eyes and hung his head, mindful of his tender jaw, mindful of his ribs. _It's a mercy._

Then: "Are you alright?"

The foreign voice cut through the harsh of street noise and lowered into him like morning lowers into mist, making a cloth from the damp earth. To open his eyes and answer meant to undertake herculean tasks — and when at last he did, the world that came into view came in out of focus, filtered silken, frayed at the margins with round-edged diffusions. "Where are the boys that were with you earlier?"

Standing above him was an angel nimbed in wash of champagne neon.

Rei blinked, slow and uncertain. His sight remained cobwebbed no matter how many times he closed his eyes and washed them in tears; his memory was slow to place her features. _The woman from the bar? But why…?_

The angel bit her lip, looked at him with the saddest violet eyes. "Where do you live?"

"...Rokugatsu-cho," he managed, rasping weakly.

"My! Then we're neighbours," the angel said, and he couldn't quite wrap his head around why that seemed to make her happy. "I live in Sangatsu-cho."

She didn't give him time to process the fact that Heaven was apparently across the bridge from his apartment complex — gentle hands found his arms and lifted, and before he knew it his head had lolled into the crook of her throat and settled there, safe at last in the faint scent of rum, honey, and black orchid.

"Ah, what's this? You're only skin and bones! God, you must weigh less than I do…"

He stumbled with her into the night, everything around them blurring together like a seam needled shut.

* * *

_This could be a very bad idea, _Akari thought, a touch belated, as she crouched to undo his shoelaces. She hadn't asked for his exact address — he was too dazed to talk, and besides, she'd again had that hounding feeling that she must be the one to do something about it. She'd taken him home before she'd realized it, but something else nagged at her: _What kind of family doesn't worry that their underage son hasn't come home? Really, now._ His phone hadn't rung once, if he even had one on him. She bit her lip hard enough to cut. That was unfair of her._ Maybe I like strays too much. Oh, mom. I'm sorry._

She looked at him; and God, he had _such_ pained eyes. It melted whatever weak protests her mind still harboured.

"Come on in," she said, the breath of it just above a whisper. "But try not to make too much noise. There are children sleeping upstairs."

Hina had left her a change of clothes by the table, a scrawl of _**Good work!**_ waiting on a little notecard beside them. Momo had drawn little cat faces on the back of the cardstock in garish lemon crayon. She smiled so wide she ached. _Small gestures truly radiate the most warmth, don't they,_ she thought, and made quick work of undressing and redressing while the boy's back was turned. Even his dry-heaving reminded her of a sick kitten.

She washed her hands.

"You'll feel better if you throw up," she said, coming up behind him. A pause. Then, realizing: "Oh. You don't know how. Well, then..."

* * *

"...don't bite my finger off, now."

There was a moment of absolute stillness: that calming scent of orchid hugged him close as the angel knelt by him, an arm curling around his frame while the other brought her hand up to his mouth; _What is she…?_ He didn't have the time to wonder long. She tugged his mouth open with a brushing touch, index and middle finger pressing down on the back of his tongue at the root, and all the upset in his stomach begun to climb.

He retched.

"There, there," the angel said, her voice coming through to him as though spoken from a great distance. Rei's ears rung, a low, thin whining sound; it felt as though he'd never stop heaving. "It's alright," the angel assured, rubbing large, soothing circles into his back with one hand, warming his stomach with the open palm of the other. Her fingers had smelled faintly of beeswax, just like his father's had in his childhood, and the circle of chance broke a dam within him. The scum in his eyes gave way to tears. "It's alright," the angel continued to assure, unhaltingly. "You're going to be alright."

He didn't know how, or why, but the fever in him believed her utterly.

* * *

Much, much later, when he was done throwing up and she'd drawn out the spare futon:

"Is there anyone I should call to let them know you're safe?"

The boy shook his head, slowly. "I live alone," he said. "My parents, they're…" He swallowed thickly. "…Gone. And Dad—my guardian, he's..." he trailed off.

_Ah._ That explained quite a few things. "I see," Akari said, getting up from the tatami to rummage for a thicker winter blanket. "Lay on your right side," she instructed, softly. "Stomach down. It helps with digestive discomfort."

The boy flushed, but did not protest being tucked in. "Thank you," he said, tone matching her own's softness. "For everything. Um…"

"Mm?"

"Your name. I don't…"

She smiled. "Kawamoto Akari. And you are?"

"Rei," he said, very shyly. "Kiriyama Rei."

"Well, Rei. I wish we could have met under better circumstances," she said, brushing the hair away from his face, and he was too tired to stop himself from basking in it. She smiled, ever so faintly, ever so tenderly. "But I am very glad that we met, all the same." She patted his shoulder. "Get some rest, now. You're probably on break, and so are the girls, but…sleep is important. Especially when you've been sick."

He could hear blackbirds chirping; the night had gotten so late, it'd begun to bleed back into early. He drifted off, thinking,_ I'm really glad we met, too._

.

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* * *

_**fin.**_


End file.
